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You've Always Been Mine	By : Mamacita Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Ron Views: 7415 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The Real Meaning of Boxing Day
Klein Bonaire
26 Dec 1991

Fred scuffed his feet in the hot sand as he walked along the beach. He could hear sounds of merriment in the distance but didn't particularly feel like joining in whatever activities the younger Potters and the mums had going on. He couldn't summon up much interest in running around (it was too hot) or swimming (too wet). What he really wanted to do—burned to do—was play a good joke on someone. However, in light of recent events he and George had realized that their scope for playing practical jokes when they were away from Hogwarts was somewhat limited, due to the fact that severe retaliation awaited anyone who was foolhardy enough to play them on Harry, his family, his courtesans, or his friends.

And really, who did that leave?

His busy mind did actually hit on a vague solution to this lack, but passed over it as somewhat unsatisfactory. However, after he had turned over every conceivable possibility in his mind and rejected them all as potentially much too hazardous to his own wellbeing, he returned to that vague possibility for another look. And the more he thought about it, the wider his grin grew.

By the time he found George where he was lolling on the sand, working on his tan ("Get real," Fred scoffed. "The sun can't even find your skin under all those freckles!"), a plan was forming in his mind. A rather good one, really; not a lot of point to it, admittedly, but since when did everything have to have a point?

George shaded his eyes and peered up at Fred, who towered over him. "Oi, you're blocking my sun," he complained half-heartedly.

Fred dropped down beside him. "Listen up," he said. "This is loads better than sitting out here baking for no good reason...."

Draco came out of his room and headed toward the door, on his way to join the others for some swimming. No sooner had he emerged than a pair of wickedly strong arms grabbed him from behind and something soft and dark was shoved down over his head, blocking out the light and muffling his undignified shriek.

"Hush!" a voice whispered. "Be still." Disoriented and panicked, Draco did as he was told. The disembodied voice uttered a brief incantation in the same whisper. Draco had a brief sensation of falling, and then there was nothing but black.

When he struggled up out of the darkness a few minutes—hours?—later, he found that it was still quite dark, with just a faint bit of light that illuminated the inside of...

...a box? Puzzled, he sat up. Well, it felt like a box. He looked around for the source of the light and saw a couple of holes about half an inch in diameter near the top of—yes, it was a box. What on earth?

He knelt up—the box was not big enough for him to stand, although he could sit in it quite comfortably—and looked out of the holes, which were spaced just far enough apart to fit his eyes. He couldn't see much, but from the quality of the light he rather thought he was somewhere indoors. He could see another box standing about three feet away, with similar holes in the side that faced him. He wondered if the box was occupied.

"H-hello?" he said quietly. There was no reply, and no sound from the other box. "I say," he said more loudly. "Is anyone there?"

No one answered, but a rustling noise came from the other box. In spite of the heat, a chill ran down Draco's back and the hair on his arms stood up. Was there a person in that box, or...something else, maybe?

Suddenly there was a good deal of thrashing around and swearing from the second box. Draco slumped in relief; at least the occupant, whoever it was, was human. He watched breathlessly as the box jumped and moved about on the floor with the exertions of its inhabitant. Suddenly it gave a great lurch and, accompanied by a startled cry, tipped over onto the side with the holes.

There was a stunned silence for a moment, then Draco heard, "Bloody hell!" He gasped.

"R-ron?" he quavered.

There was a pregnant silence, followed by, "Draco? Is that you?" Ron's voice was somewhat muffled, as the holes were against the floor now. After a good deal of frantic thumping and thrashing, Ron managed to tip the box back onto its bottom and his eyes appeared at the holes. For a long moment neither of them said anything.

"Hey," Draco said finally.

"Hey." Ron's eyes disappeared for a moment and Draco could hear him patting the box. Ron reappeared shortly. "Have you got your wand?" He watched as Draco's eyes went away and he scrabbled on the floor of his box, reappearing a few moments later.

"No. You?" Draco could tell Ron was shaking his head, although only his eyes were visible.

"What's all this, then?" Ron asked, his eyes wide. "Where d'you think we are?"

"Dunno. But I'd like to get my hands on whoever put me in here," Draco muttered resentfully. He backed away from the holes and hooked a finger in one of them, trying to rip the heavy cardboard, but it resisted all his efforts.

"Spelled, maybe?" Ron said helpfully. Draco merely grunted.

Ron disappeared again and Draco could hear him fumbling with something inside the box. He watched as the sides of the box bulged, but the seams—if seams there were—remained intact. Ron came back to the eyeholes, and Draco could hear him panting with exertion.

"What were you doing?" he asked curiously.

"Seeing if I could break the box if I stretched my legs out all the way," Ron replied. "I was going to try peeling the flaps open—but there aren't any!" They knelt there and stared at each other for a bit.

"Do you know any wandless magic?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Naw," Ron replied glumly. "Fred and George won't teach me any more. Mum caught them trying to show me how to levitate things without a wand and nearly had kittens over it. 'Wandless magic!' " he said in a falsetto voice, mimicking Molly. " 'What were you thinking?' Now they won't show me anything—they just say I'm too little and I have to wait until I'm older." He picked at one of the holes with a fingernail, but the cardboard resisted even this small attempt at vandalism.

Draco sighed. "Well, what are we going to do?" he asked. "I wonder where we are."

"Dunno—in the house somewhere, I should think. Doesn't feel like outdoors, does it?"

"No. Maybe if we both yell loud enough, someone will come."

Ron said, "Okay. On three?" Draco nodded. Ron counted, "One...two...three," and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Help! Let us out! Hellllllp!" while Draco shouted, "Mum! Harry! Help us!"

They stopped finally, a bit hoarse and breathless, and waited. Nothing happened; there was no pounding of feet, no welcome scolding from anyone upon discovering them somewhere they shouldn't be. Their eyes met and held across the space that divided them, an uncrossable chasm for all that it was only a few feet in distance.

Draco's lip quivered a bit. Ron couldn't see it, but he could hear it when Draco spoke. "D-do you think they'll ever find us?" he asked, his eyes huge through the peepholes.

"Of course they will," Ron said bracingly. "If we miss a couple of meals they're sure to notice and come looking for us." His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he'd already missed at least one meal.

Draco's eyes brightened a little. "We could try Legilimency," he suggested.

Ron shrugged. "Do you know how?"

"Well...not exactly. I suppose you just—well—think really hard at someone, don't you?" Draco said.

Ron shrugged. "Well, we've got nothing better to do, I guess. Who do we think at?"

"I dunno. How about my mum?"

"Tell you what," Ron suggested, warming to the idea. "There's supposed to be some sort of mental connection between mothers and their children, right? So what if you try your mum and I try my mum—maybe that could work." He grimaced. "My knees are getting tired. I'm going to sit down while I do it, so I can concentrate properly."

Draco nodded, and both of them retreated into their boxes and thought furiously at their mothers. It was frustrating, and rather scary, not knowing whether their amateur attempt at Legilimency was working, but as Ron had said, there was nothing else to do at the moment and it couldn't hurt to try.

Eventually Ron fell asleep, thinking of Molly. Draco, bored upon being left to his own devices, periodically tried to think rescue-related thoughts toward Narcissa but after a while he, too, gave up and sank into an uneasy, uncomfortably squashed doze.

A loud bang woke them up. Draco opened his eyes, noticing that what light there was was much fainter than it had been before. He wondered how long he'd been asleep. "Ron?" he called.

"Here, mate," came Ron's voice. Draco could hardly see Ron's box now in the fading light.

"What was that noise?" Draco asked in a hushed voice.

"I don't—"

Just then it came again: a loud thunk very close by, and this time voices accompanied it. "Ron!" they heard. It was Molly. Ron nearly wept with relief.

"Mum!" he bellowed. There was another bang, and then a giant crash, and light and air poured into the holes in the boxes.

"What the—oh, Morgana!" Molly exclaimed. "Quickly—Narcissa, Ginny, open these boxes!" With a little encouragement by way of a cutting spell, the tops of both boxes finally flew open. Ron looked up to see Narcissa's pinched face looking down at him.

"Here's yours, Molly," she said, and turned toward the other box to see Draco, who was standing up and grimacing at the pins and needles in his legs as the circulation returned to them. "Draco!" She flew to the box, narrowly avoiding a collision with Molly, who was headed in Ron's direction, and flung her arms around Draco. For once, he let her.

Both boys climbed out of their respective prisons amid a barrage of questions and exclamations. Gradually more people gathered round, until the cramped space—which proved to be a small toolshed at the bottom of the garden—was crammed with people. Molly's voice emerged from the center.

"Out, everyone, outside! Go on, now, give them some room!" She chivvied the group back out into the open. Ron and Draco, holding tightly to each other's arms, stumbled out behind them into the richly scented night air, enveloped—perhaps even just a bit smothered—in motherly affection. They explained as best they could what had happened, and Molly and Narcissa got identical militant gleams in their eyes.

They regarded the circle of onlookers assessingly. Movement toward the edge of the group caught Molly's eye and she shrieked, "Aha! Freeze, you two!"

Fred and George turned guiltily from where they had been sneaking quietly away. George murmured something and Fred whispered loudly, "Hush! Will you be still?"

Draco and Ron stiffened in shock. That voice...that was why it had sounded familiar, even in a whisper!

"Fred?" Ron said in disbelief. "You did this?" Draco just stared at the twins, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Fred colored but tried to look nonchalant—not an easy thing to do when two furious mothers were steaming toward him and the hapless George with fire in their eyes and the former victims in tow. "Well—er—" he began. "We didn't mean any harm."

"Right," George said. "Just a harmless prank."

"Boxing Day, don't you know," Fred reminded them with a cocky grin. "So we just boxed the little blighters up." This didn't seem to have any obvious placatory effect on his mother, so he reached out and ruffled Ron's hair. "Okay, kid?" Ron slapped his hand away and looked death at his older brother.

"Boxing—you—oh!" Molly was speechless with indignation. Narcissa said nothing, but her lips tightened ominously and her wand started to rise. Molly was cognizant enough of their surroundings and audience to put out a restraining hand, but the twins cringed at Narcissa's burning glare, which promised retribution.

Molly waved her wand at them and they yelped as their ears were gripped by invisible fingers. "You must be taught a lesson—one you won't soon forget," she said grimly. "This ridiculous behavior has got to stop! I believe I'll have a word with Harry. The two of you obviously can't be trusted on your own; maybe he'll have some suggestions for how to prevent your mischief."

Draco and Ron smirked at this. Fred and George hadn't looked worried until mention of Harry, but this was apparently a threat that carried some weight. Molly and Narcissa led them away to an uncertain fate. Ron and Draco trailed behind, none the worse for wear and delighted to hear that Fred and George seemed about to finally get what had been coming to them for far too long.
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You've Always Been Mine